Balancing Acts
by K. Constantine
Summary: Cat Grant doesn't like things she can't understand. That's a lie. She likes them too much.
The only other people left inside the CatCo building are the cleaning staff, the security guards. There are two sips of bourbon left in your glass. You've been drinking it slowly, with steady sips that allow you to taste the hints of mango, papaya, and peat smoke in the forty-six year old spirit. You don't bring this particular bottle out often, but it's been a hell of a week filled with leaked emails, corporate takeovers, and bloodthirsty board members.

The only good thing to happen is realizing your assistant is Supergirl. You wonder if that makes her your own personal superhero. At the very least, you deserve branding rights. If it wasn't for the need to keep her identity a secret, you'd have Lionel look into. On second thought, the attorney-client privilege should cover secret identities, so maybe you'll have him look into it after all.

You take another sip with a deep breath and closed eyes, and in that moment the air shifts. You hear the whip of a cape, and you know Kara is behind you. She hovers over the balcony and shyly awaits an invitation. You carelessly wave her in and stare until she floats down a few feet away.

Supergirl can break through walls, but Kara can't look you in the eyes. It's a phenomenon you don't understand. You don't like things you don't understand.

That's a lie. You like them too much. During the course of your life you've become self aware enough to realize your insatiable drive to understand something at its most elemental is the cause of your greatest achievements and your greatest failures.

You wonder which one Kara will be as she finally looks up and says, "Ms. Grant?"

You marvel at the hesitancy of Kara encased in the power of Supergirl, "Yes."

There is a long pause. Longer than you have ever allowed anyone outside of Carter. You wonder if she's going to ask you to keep her secret or force you to forget. You've heard rumors about Superman and lips that cause amnesia. You'd say it was ridiculous, but there's an alien young woman with an S on her chest standing less than three feet away from you.

Without the glasses, Kara's eyes are so clear that you can see the exact moment she finally cobbles her words together. "Ms. Grant I… I just want…" She looks up at the sky and you speculate about how far she can see. "Can I just sit here? For a while?"

This time, when her gaze returns to you, it doesn't waiver. "Of course."

And so you sit together and alternate between sips of your bourbon and glances at Kara's profile.

Her eyes don't waiver from the stars.

It seems like hours. It is not until much later that you realize only fifteen minutes have passed before Supergirl tilts her head slightly, most likely listening for a life calling out to be saved, gives you a shy, "Thank you," and flies off.

You blink and she's so far away so quickly you almost wonder if she was ever there at all.

xxxx

When you tell Kara she doesn't have to call you Ms. Grant when the two of you are alone, she's sitting on the opposite side of your desk with mounds of paperwork between you.

The shy smile returns. She looks down and says, "I couldn't do that."

You don't ask why. Kara and Supergirl. Supergirl and Kara. This is not a puzzle you want to force. You want to examine its edges and curves. To understand them individually, so that when the picture is whole, your fingertips have absorbed the complexity of how they fit together.

It's nearly midnight and a lesser person would be days past the point of exhaustion by now. As Dirk Armstrong prepares for trial, you and Kara meticulously comb through every ounce of history on every CatCo board member. You've already forced his conspirators to resign, with more dignity and money than they deserve, but with only minor damage to the CatCo brand. Rehabilitating the board of directors is an excruciating job, but you are you, and Kara possesses immeasurable dedication. You think she would retain this characteristic even if she were as human as everyone else.

"Do you ever get tired?" you ask.

The question surprises her and she drops her pen and hits her head on the desk while retrieving it. "Oh, umm… no?"

"You're unsure?"

"I'm kind of new at this, so I don't really know. I mean, I can exhaust my powers if I do too much or I've been kept away from the sun for too long, but it doesn't make me tired." She bites her lip, "Just human, I guess. So if I were human for long enough, then maybe I could be tired? So, umm…maybe. Yes, definitely maybe. In like extreme circumstances."

"And what would extreme be?"

"I don't know. I don't really want to find out."

"Don't you want to know your limits? How strong you are? How much you can handle?"

Kara pauses, takes a deep breathe. You can see the moment her internal scales tip. It is minute. Not even a whisper. You think you must have X-ray vision to even detect it, but for the past month you've been paying attention to Kara more than almost anything else in your life. So you notice. And you understand that it is Supergirl who exhales. You wonder if she notices it too.

"I don't want to ever see what the world looks like if something arrives that's able to exhaust me."

"Neither do I." There's a moment where you just stare at her. "I think we've done enough for tonight. Thank you, Kara." You've been saying that a lot lately. Her actual name, and thank you. You mean it every time.

"No, thank you, Ms. Grant."

"For…?"

"Umm, being amazing, I guess?"

"No need to guess, Kara. Being amazing is barely my starting point."

She smiles softly, and pushes wisps of blonde hair behind her ear. It's been falling into her eyes all night. "Can I give you a ride?"

"I pay David extremely well to drive me all around the city. I've no need to subject myself to whatever kind of car you can afford on the salary I pay you."

"I didn't drive."

It takes you three-seconds to realize what she means, but only one to say yes.

xxxx

It's been an entire week and you can't stop thinking about it.

Flying feels like the time you beat Lois Lane for a Pulitzer. Like the lungful of air that's crystalized in your memory from your trek to the peak of Everest. Like Carter saying, "I'm super proud of you, Mom," when you beat him at Mario Kart for the first time. It was over entirely too soon, and when Supergirl placed you down on your doorstep you asked, "Does it always feel like that?"

"No," she whispered. "Not always." Her eyes slipped to your lips and quickly scrambled back up. There is just enough light at your door for you to see a pink blush rise from her neck to her cheeks.

You had a decision to make. It had been a little over a month since you uncovered Kara's secret and everyday since existed as a quest to find out more. It was a strikingly sudden realization that the person you were learning the most about was you.

Kara's eyes slipped to your lips again as you said, "Good," and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth. The tiny gasp that escaped from her lips felt like whatever you thought was power until this point was a lie. "Goodnight, Kara."

You walked into your house with the notes of Kara's, "Goodnight, Ms. Grant" lingering in your wake.

Seven days later and that gasp is in an infinite loop. Seven days later and Kara has managed to not be alone with you for any extended period of time. Seven days later and when Kara speeds into your office with a Greek salad and Parmesan truffle fries from Mina's, you ask her to stay, to sit, to listen. "Kara, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Oh, why would I be uncomfortable, Ms. Grant? You didn't make me uncomfortable. It's just been so busy lately with, you know, here and… and there," she carelessly waves her right hand towards the window. "And I'm just getting the—"

"Kara, I'm sorry, which are not words I utter often, so I insist you accept them and we move on, or I'll be highly offended."

Kara swallows, and the gulp is comically obvious. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, Ms. Grant."

"No?"

"No." And you wait for it, the rebalancing of the scales. "No, you made me… you made me feel attainable."

You lean back in your chair, "Well," you exhale. Attainable. "I've never placed a limit on the things I can attain."

"Does that include me?"

"Do you want it to?"

"I'm… I'm not sure." And just like that, Kara is back.

"Until then," you say. You hold her gaze for longer than appropriate between a boss and an assistant, until you believe she knows exactly what you mean, before instructing her to, "Call Amelia Charles immediately and set up and interview to discuss the changes at CatCo and the bright future ahead.

xxxx

David only drives you home when Kara is occupied with saving the world, which seems to happen at least once a week. Sometimes you ask her to come in. At first, she always says no.

The first time she says yes is three months later, after a brutally long week. Carter is only just recovering from the flu. Lois Lane just released an in-depth and candid interview with Lex Luthor, which she garnered from the last time he abducted her. And National City has only just been saved from the brink of utter destruction by someone who thought it a good idea to name himself Parasite.

Supergirl won, as usual, and while you know physical exhaustion is unknown to her, you imagine being powered by the sun does not eradicate the occasional desire for a glass of wine and a comfortable couch.

She follows you through your front door and into the kitchen. By the time you turn around she has already changed into her regular clothes. Today it is skinny khakis and a red polka dot blouse. Its blandness is only barely tolerable, but you choose to ignore it. You like to think of it as your daily sacrifice.

"How do you do that?" you ask.

"Science," she says earnestly.

"Mom, the game is already set up. Can we order pizza?" Carter says, walking into the kitchen. "Oh. Hi, Kara. Are you here to play Settlers of Catan with us?"

Carter is a quiet boy, but seeing him accept Kara's presence in your home so easily reminds you to ask what really happened when she watched him all those months ago. Honestly, the idea of having a superhero babysitting your son would be mind-blowing if Carter weren't so amazing, therefore it seems only appropriate that his care be trusted to someone who can literally stop bullets and fly.

"Yes, Kara. Are you going to play Settlers of Catan with us?"

"And eat pizza?" Carter adds.

Kara looks between the two of you and says, "Only if you're okay with losing."

You tilt your head and smirk at her sudden display of sass. You like it. "You two get settled and I'll order the pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom?"

"Sounds good," Kara says before following Carter into the living room.

It turns out Kara was not overestimating her abilities. You've lost three times by the time Carter is yawning so much, he sends himself to bed.

"Well, that was fun," you say.

"Even though you lost?"

"Mmm… Even though," you smile. "Another glass of wine?"

"Sure."

You pour the remaining sips of the 2007 Australian Shiraz into your glasses and settle into a comfortable silence while Kara packs up the game. You fall into an easy rhythm where you keep catching her eye mid shy glance, and she blushes and drops whatever game piece is in her hand. When she finally finishes, she sits next to you on the couch at a very respectable distance.

It's rather easy sharing space with her. You don't have to entertain each other, and it is a refreshing change. Kara sips her wine like each taste is a delightful surprise. She brings the glass to her mouth, takes a delicate sip, quirks a lopsided smile, and darts her tongue against her lips to capture every lingering drop.

The sight of it is more intoxicating than the wine itself.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask. The first time you caught her unaware. This time you're insistent you give Kara the chance to say no.

The space between your question and her answer is interminably long as her gaze travels between your eyes and your lips and back again.

"Yes."

And so you do. You place the wine glasses on the coffee table and slide closer to her. She angles herself just a little, so you fold your leg underneath you and move in even closer to fill the gap.

You lean in slowly. The closer you get, the more erratic her breathing becomes. Right before you close the distance completely you ask, "Okay?"

"Okay," she whispers.

First your lips land on the corner of her mouth, reminiscent of the moment you've obsessed about for months. This time, you don't pull back. Instead, you skim a second kiss against the fullness of her bottom lip. Her breathe catches and the sound sizzles its way deep into your soul. You feather your lips against hers once more before pulling back.

Her eyes are still closed and she's barely breathing when you say, "The next time is on you."

xxxx

You spend too many hours thinking about the next time and when it might be. Every look Kara shares with you at work is full of promise and heat and warm cheeks. Every evening, she flies you home and the feeling of her arms wrapped around you inspire irrational thoughts of relationships and making them work.

It was just one kiss, and your mind feasts on it, delivering thirsty dreams at night and a simmering hunger during the day. You've never been affected this way before, and you can't figure it out. When you should be working, you're running through every interaction trying to find the missing piece that explains this sudden obsession.

It's not until you're laying in bed, hot, bothered, and so very tempted to dip your fingers into your own heat that your mind conjures up the gasp Kara made the first time you kissed her. You remember how powerful you felt and something deep within you clenches and throbs.

It's then that you understand.

You have the ability to make the strongest woman on Earth desperate for air that she doesn't even need. You almost come on the spot.

The next time turns out to be after what must be the hundredth time you've watched the video of Kara being punched so hard she fell helplessly through several layers of cement, completely obliterating Richmond Street in the process. Supergirl prevailed in the end. Of course. But it's the first time you genuinely worried about the outcome. It leaves a pit in your stomach, excavated of the warmth Kara has added to your life.

You've barely taken another sip of your bourbon before the air shifts with that familiar electricity, and Supergirl flies onto your balcony, walks you back into the brick wall of CatCo and kisses you like a thunderstorm. You feel every splash of her lips like lightning against your skin. It never occurred to you, until Kara slides her tongue against yours, that kissing could be a superpower.

Her kiss is deliriously suffocating and hot like the sun that powers her wants nothing more than to consume you whole. Your hand grasps the back of her neck, slides between the strands of her soft hair, and pulls her closer. She's alive, and here, and the pit begins to fill.

She grabs your leg, pulls it around her waist and steps in until the surprisingly textured fabric of her skirt presses intimately against you.

You don't know how you manage to place your glass on the nearby table, but when your hand is free, you pull her closer still. You roll your hips once… twice… and then she joins you in that rhythm.

She doesn't need to breath, but you do, and it's the only reason you finally pull away, gasping for air, but still clinging to her as she grinds into you. "Don't stop," you command. You want to see Supergirl come apart. You want to come apart with her.

So of course she stops.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"If you fly away right now, I'll kill you," you whisper.

She doesn't fly away, but she does take a few steps back.

"I got a little carried away."

"Apparently, not enough." You're angry, hot, frustrated at being denied and so unbelievably grateful she's alive. "The next time you kiss me like that, I expect you to follow through." Your voice is full of command even though you've barely caught your breath and your body is still throbbing.

She leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, deliberately brief. "I promise."

xxxx

Kara's integrity is impeachable. You hate this about her.

Because she promised, it's been forever and she hasn't kissed you like that again.

It's all you can think about. It's highly infuriating.

On two separate occasions, you almost spill your perfectly hot coffee all over your desk because you were too busy staring at her lips instead of aiming the cup.

Your staff is more afraid of you now than they've ever been, which has improved productivity by thirteen percent, so you suppose there are some benefits.

If she were anyone else, you'd swear it was intentional. The way her fingers linger on your wrist, the way she looks at you through fluttering eyelashes when she says, "Yes, Ms. Grant." The way her tongue barely traces your bottom lip when she kisses you goodnight after an evening of pizza and Carter's game of choice.

The fact that it's just Kara being herself makes her all the more captivating.

It's been almost a year since you figured out her secret and you wonder if it will be another year before she figures out yours. Other than Carter, she's the most important person in your life.

You've never been one for friends, though you've always been fond of lovers. The two occasions you had a lover you wanted to be a friend gave you Adam and Carter. Having a friend you want to be a lover gives you Kara saying please in a way that makes the tips of your fingers tingle and has you agreeing to things like game night at her apartment with her sister, James, the sister of Lois, and the handsome hobbit. Each of them grate on every single one of your nerves. You win. Of course. It's fun. You'll never admit it.

It gives you Grilled Cheese Sundays, where Kara secretly writes each of your names on the bread with her heat vision and calls it "Fire graffiti." You roll your eyes every time. And, every time, she kisses you softly until you smile.

It gives you Kara saving the world late into the night and slipping into your bed an hour before your alarm goes off just to wrap her arms around your waist, snuggle close and breathe deeply like she's refilling her reserves after weeks of missed Pizza Fridays, and Mario Kart, and grilled cheese. On those days, you both show up to work late, you both leave early, and you consider giving your employees an extra Christmas bonus because they're extremely good at acting like they don't notice.

Essentially, it gives you love.

xxxx

You watch the livestream in your office with half of CatCo watching over your shoulder. They wandered in somewhere between Maria Mathieson breaking the story and Darkseid punching Supergirl through the 23rd floor of the Essilex building on 4th.

You remind yourself she's quite literally invincible, but then so is he. The fight not only makes its way through most of National City, but through several layers of atmosphere.

It's breathtaking. It makes you sick to your stomach.

There's a moment where Kara lunges toward Darkseid and misses by millimeters, which allows him grab her by the throat and fling her away from the bridge filled with cars and school buses and all the people she's trying to save. He aims orange beams, that have already destroyed half the city, from his eyes toward the bridge.

Milliseconds before catastrophe strikes, Supergirl throws her body in their path and takes the hit. Darkseid increases his efforts and pummels her into the murky depths below, creating an explosion of water as they are both submerged. You instantly know the agony on Kara's face as those beams hit her chest will haunt you forever.

For long minutes, there's nothing but waves rippling from the disturbance, your heart beating outside your chest, and the intense silence in your office as you all wait.

You remind yourself that Kara doesn't need oxygen. You acknowledge that you definitely need her.

It takes what feels like an eternity. When you check later, it turns out to be forty-two seconds. Kara flies out of the water with twice the force she had going in. She has Darkseid restrained; arms in a vice grip behind his back, forearm around his throat, and his eyes burned shut. They fly up and up and up until all you can see is blue sky and yellow sun.

When it's all over, your hands shake and you send everyone home.

Essentially, love gives you fear.

In the pit of your stomach. In the bourbon sloshing over the rim of your glass. In your heart that can't find its rhythm. It gives you more than you asked for; simultaneously too much and not enough.

You're wondering if you're equipped to live in the space where nothing is in your control when the air makes a particular sound that's only heard when Supergirl is flying nearby.

She lands on your balcony, and you want to be angry. At yourself for falling in love with her, at the stupid villains that show up every damn week. But then she walks up to you and presses you up against the wall.

She kisses you like waves breaking against the sand, the gravity of the moon pulling you in and out. Each kiss fundamentally alters you. Each caress of her lips and slide of her tongue adds an inescapable heat until your blood is molten, singeing your skin from the inside out.

You've been waiting for this kiss for so long. With every passing second, you're unsure if you'll explode or pass out or ever be the same again. Kara kisses you so thoroughly, so acutely, you don't know if she'll ever release you from the depths of it.

When Kara finally lets you breathe, she only pulls back enough so that she can look in your eyes. Her words brush against your lips as she says, "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"I'm not." The words come out before you realize how much you mean them. None of the good things in your life have ever come quickly, and it makes complete sense that this be no different.

She kisses you again. Softer this time, but still potent. "Ms. Grant?"

She hasn't called you that when it's been just the two of you in a while. You raise one eyebrow and wait for her to continue.

Kara looks up at you through her eyelashes and asks, "Can I… can I have the day off tomorrow? Maybe?"

You're so accustomed to Kara's earnestness, that it takes the minuscule upturn at the corner of her lips to give her away.

"It depends," you respond.

"On?" she asks as her smile grows full.

"If you can convince me to take the day off with you."

As her arms tighten around your waist, her only response is a promising smile that's equal parts Kara and Supergirl; an exquisite blend of power and goodness.

As she flies you closer to the stars than you've ever been, you admit that you deserve to be in love with a superhero and she deserves to be in love with you.

Together, amazing is just barely your starting point.


End file.
